


How To Train Your Dragon In the 21st Century

by Radical_Rapscalian



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, And Now For Something Completely Different, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Dry Humor, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family History, Family Reunions, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, HTTYD - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Lots of sarcasm, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Original Characters - Freeform, Plot Twists, Sarcasm, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, War, long fic, lots of action, lots of references, original plotline, set in the far future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radical_Rapscalian/pseuds/Radical_Rapscalian
Summary: There were dragons when he was a boy.1000 years have passed, and the dragons have all but been forgotten and Erik Strogen took on this study abroad program thinking that the next year would be filled with endless notes, useless chores, and annoying locals. While there was still that, what he didn't realize is that it would also involve a private army hell-bent on toppling entire world governments, ancient conspiracies, secret cults, and dragons... lots of dragons. Not how he thought his Sophomore year of college would go...Take part in the world of HTTYD, a world that's so familiar yet so different from the one we know. Where friendships are formed in the heat of battle, love can be found in the oddest of places, and family is something that you'd never expect to run into at the edge of the world.
Relationships: Erik Skogen/Helena Haddock, Henrik Haddock/Kristine Ingerman, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue: History Repeats Itself

Kai Grimborn was a patient man, but even patient men have their limits. 

He drummed his fingers irritably on the wood of his desk, eager to hear word of the incoming shipment. He could easily find some form of paperwork to delve into or distract himself on his laptop, the internet _was_ an endless void of distractions and entertainment. However, he found his own thoughts and surroundings more than enough to distract him from his ever-growing irritation. His eyes roamed around his office, once again taking in the decor and accommodations that he now called home.

The stone walls of the carved out cave always fascinated him, the hexagonal stalagmites and stalactites that made up the walls of his office were a constant reminder of how incredible and bizarre nature could be. He smiled to himself at that thought, from what he’d seen in the 53 years he’s been alive he thought that he had seen it all, and yet every day he was amazed and inspired by something new.

As his vision drifted from the left side of the carved out cavern to the right he looked over the mounds of relics and papers that cluttered his office. On the left side of his office, he kept his more professional and business-related items such as bookshelves worth of trading documents and shipment quotas, as well as a few trinkets given to him as good-natured gifts. On the right side of his office were items that were of a far more personal nature.

Weapons of old and new lay on racks that were strewn about from the steel door that led into the office to his ornate executive desk. The top racks on the far end of the room were adorned with light weapons such as bows, arrows, and daggers. The middle racks were for spears and swords, while the bottom racks were meant for maces, claymores, and other forms of heavy hand to hand weaponry. Closest to his desk were more modern weapons, similarly structured with lighter weaponry such as deagles, PMMs, and Astras on the top racks, with heavier weaponry such as Ares, Baretts, and M32 grenade launchers (those he saved for special occasions) adorning the bottom racks, with AK-47s and M16s centered between them. But at the center of the wall, space was made for his most prized possessions.

At the center of the wall, three stalagmites were placed, each holding an ornate sword. The bottom two stalagmites held a pair of swords, with the sword on the left stalagmite pointing to the right and the right pointing to the left, crossing each other at the middle. 

The left held a vibrant emerald sword, the sword had no point but instead hooked like a wolf’s fang (only straighter), its purpose, most likely, was to latch onto its target to prevent escape. Only one of the edges was serrated, past the fang of the sword the points came in waves, the sword’s use was not for quick and decisive blows, but for slow, painful, and excruciating ends. A symbol was carved into the central ridge of the sword on both sides, although his archaeological branch was unable to uncover anything useful to its origin. Its handle was simple, the grip of the sword was made of simple leather-like material which made it easy to hold and prevented slippage when covered in sweat. 

The right held a more elegant blade, more classic in its shape but nonetheless regal. The blade itself was fairly universal in its shape, the difference being that its width was greater than that of normal long swords but shorter in its length. A detail that Kai found intriguing was that if one was to inspect the blade closely enough, it would seem as if the blade was originally split down the middle as if at some point the blade was two instead of one. Now the blade was held together by an intricate grip and pommel that covered the first few inches of both edges of the blade, and the guard of the sword was circular in its shape, adorned with 12 pure rubies, 6 on each side of the blade, separated at the middle. 

His eyes settled on the third and final weapon, and he frowned. That sword, or at least its user, was that of legends. But that was all they were now, myths and legends, stories to tell wide-eyed children filled with hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams that were meant to be crushed and swept aside to make way for mediocrity and uniformity. 

Kai pushed his ornate wooden chair back and stood up, and as he made his way to the blade the same word played over and over in his head, it was a word that he detested more than anything else. 

“Wrong”

“You’re wrong”

He gritted his teeth, he was not wrong, never wrong, always in the right. Why could she never see it? Why couldn’t _anyone_ ever see what was wrong with this world? Was he really the only one who could see how crazy the world that they lived in was, how twisted and backward everything was?

He stood in front of the three swords, all three representing ideologies and ideas that should have shaken the world to its core, ripped it from its roots and let the seeds of the future grow. Yet here they lay, remnants of an age long forgotten through the passage of time.

He reached for the third sword and gripped it tightly with his right hand. He pulled it from its pedestal and held in front of his eyes and with a mere press of a button, the sword sprang out of its hilt, igniting into an orange-crimson flame. The flame licked at his face yet the heat did not bother him. 

Through the flame, he could see his face in the polished metal. His emerald eyes stared right back at him as the flames surrounded his image. 

His long black hair stretched down to his shoulders as strands hung in front of his face. His beard stretched from his temple and encircled the entirety of his jaw, and at the apex of his chin it pointed down in a sophisticated fashion with the mustache he bore being much of the same.

A strand of flame licked at his scars, causing him to flinch and sheath the blade. He shook himself his trance and slowly brought the blade to his side while bringing his other hand to his face. He felt along the canyons that his scars left, the torn yet scabbed flesh bringing back a host of memories, some he remembered fondly, others that he would like to forget. He spread three fingers along the three gashes, following the near-perfect line the creature made. 

The scar was a reminder, his motivator, his fury, and the reason for his existence. It opened his eyes and showed him what the world truly is, a place where only the strongest survive. While most men would be silenced and cast out for trying to spread this truth, he stood tall and realized that things needed to change, and if the world would not change willingly, he would change it by force.

“Sir?”

Kai was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice. He whipped around to the iron door that led into his office to see Terje Prestegard, a young man who had been serving as his protege for about 5 years now. He was a bright young man into his mid-20s, stocky yet trimmed in his physique, he was fully adorned with military-issue combat gear, helmet, and goggles included. There were only a few instances that he could recall where the boy took off any of his gear.

Kai sterned his expression, always wishing to keep an air of professionalism with all of his colleagues,“What is it Terje?”, Kai asked in a neutral tone.

“The shipment has arrived sir, Bjorn sent me to collect you”, Terje said as straighten himself, hands clasp behind his back.

Kai raised his eyebrows slightly, he was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he had completely forgotten about the shipment. He placed the sword back on its pedestal and clasped his hands behind his back, facing Terje in the process. Terje straightened in a military-like fashion and led Kai out to the docks. 

Kai was immediately greeted by brisk, cold winter wind, causing some of his long, greying black hair to fly in his face. As they descended the mountainside Kai was saluted by many of his colleagues as he and Terje passed, nodding in response to each of them. Each man and woman he passed issued a set of all white military-issue combat gear, a gift most generously donated by one of their benefactors in Russia. 

Kai looked out on the horizon, his thoughts once again overtaking much of his attention. The massive expanse of the beach was covered in make-shift tents, torches and small fires that were scattered between them. Despite the lamp-lights and torches, the moon was the greatest source of light on the island, illuminating even the darkest of areas. As Kai looked out he saw many of his hunting ships, most of his fleet consisting of corvets and frigates from one of their more successful raids against a US military base in Værnes. His pride and joy were the two destroyer ships and that he and his personal crew stole 15 years ago, still in proper working condition and the source for many of their more successful hunts. With each raid came a smaller yet equally important prize of both money and weapons, for in this world money is power, and how you display that power is through the use of weapons.

Kai looked behind him as the slope of the path began to flatten, he gazed up upon the majesty of the mountain that his army resided under. The spikes that protruded from the side of the mountain stood as a testament of endurance, for even with the changing of the Earth’s climate these icy protrusions have withstood the test of time. Many scientists would call this place a glacier, and while Kai had an appreciation for the sciences and their importance in today’s world, he felt that calling this formation of mythological proportions a “glacier” would be an insult. 

He turned his attention back to Terje, following through the main path of tents to the docks where he could see in the distance one of his cargo ships coming into port. 

As Kai passed by dozens of tents, he glanced into many of the open-flap tents seeing a plethora of activity. From drunken shenanigans, serious discussions regarding hunting plans, to actions of a more… intimate nature. He smiled at what his work has brought him, over 30 years of work has brought him to this, the leader of not just his own army, but an army of people who believe in his cause, who wish to change the world for the better… no matter how bloody it can get.

It took a good 10 to 15 minutes to reach the docks, to which Kai was greeted to multiple shipment crates being loaded off the vessel, weapons, supplies, dragon parts, the usual. However, there was one piece of cargo that Kai was looking forward to more than anything.

As if right on cue, a short but bellowing roar came from the deck of the ship, followed by at least 20 of his men accompanying a large cage.

The cage was rattling back and forth with a serious of animalistic grunts and snarls each time the cage was shaken, and at each attempt to escape his men were ready with modified cattle prods to pacify the beast in some way. 

Kai turned to Treje, “That will be all Terje, head back and notify Commander Karsten of the shipment’s arrival to make necessary preparations”.

“Yessir!”, Terje said with a salute. As he left to meet up with the Commander, Kai turned back to the twenty or so men trying to control the beast within the cage. Kai could see the wing-like flaps that laid on the back of its tail thrashing back and forth in the cage.

Kai walked up to the cage and was immediately halted by one of his men, “Sir we highly recommend you do not progress any further, we’ve already had more than a few injuries sustained on the ship, and that’s not counting the number of men we lost trying to catch this thing”, the soldier said in a tone that could only be described as exhausted and panic-driven.

“Not to worry my good man”, Kai said as he raised his hand in front of the soldier, “I’ve been faced with an offspring of death before.”

“But sir..”

“As I said soldier, I’m not afraid. Once you’ve looked death in the eyes enough times, you tend to get… addicted”, Kai said with a sly grin.

As Kai approached the cage many of his men parted ways to give him some room. He overheard one of the soldiers shouting to have their tranquilizers trained on the monster in case something went wrong. As the sentiment was appreciated, it was unneeded.

The beast thrashed at the soldiers that backed away from its cage. Even with the commotion that going on around the cage, its ear-like appendage flicked in Kai’s direction and the beast immediately snapped its electric blue eyes at Kai, snarling and bearing its snow-white fangs at him.

Kai came as close to the bars of the cage as he dared, even he wasn’t brazen enough to come close to the jaws of the beast without proper equipment. But thankfully his men were able to secure a muzzle on the monster. He reviewed the beast in its entirety, its bat-like wings folded to its body in a protective stance, its pupils were slits and if Kai did not know any better he would have thought its irises were glowing. Although it was backed up against the far end of the cage he could see a single white stripe with jagged edges run from the top of its head to the tip of its tail, coloring the spikes that adorned its back. However, the rest of its body was completely black and were it not for the moonlight and its stripe, the only thing that Kai would have seen is its piercing eyes. 

“Lightning and Death… what a combination”, Kai said smugly.

The beast lunged forward in its cage, its fairly stubby legs missing Kai by mere inches. It thrashed at the bars, slamming and slashing at its prison, trying desperately to rip him apart with a vengeance. But Kai did not move, only smile, “Get the cargo to the training facility! I want this thing processed before New Years!”.

A collection of ‘yessir’s and ‘move it’s were shouted as his men readied their shock-prods and began attaching chains to the cage, securing onto one of the open-bed trucks. Once the beast was loaded, the truck drove off to the west side of the beach. 

“KAI YA OLD BASTARD!”

Kai looked back to the loading ramp and saw the familiar face of Olaf Sollie. The man was a good six foot three, just an inch taller than himself. He wore the same combat gear that most of his soldiers wore, but with a distinct lack of guns. Battle-hardened was the best way to describe Olaf, his right eye was covered in a patch, with the same side of his scalp having been burned off, leaving deep and impressionable scars on one half of his head, the other half was covered in a set of reddish hair. A full beard of the same color accompanied his face, although there were some burnt spots along his chin. 

“I distinctly remember you being a year older than me!”, Kai shouted back.

“I’ll accept that when ya get that log outta yer arse and stop actin’ like a Rumblehorn that got its horn chipped!”, Olaf chortled as he came up upon Kai. Kai held out his hand to greet the man but Olaf encompassed him in a rib-cracking hug.

“Ah.. yes.. urk.. Olaf… the men… are… watching…”, Kai managed to force out through his crushed lungs.

“Alright suit yerself”, Olaf released him from his hug and Kai felt the air rush back into his lungs. He snapped back into his usual composure as soon as he caught his breath.

“What have I told you about maintaining a professional attitude? By the gods you’re a hunter, start acting like it”, Kai said in an irritated tone.

“Ah stop bein’ a yak in a mud pit and lightin’ up would ya?”, Olaf said while slapping Kai on the back, “Besides, what’s not to be happy about? A damn NIGHTFURY! Never thought I’d ever see one in my lifetime let alone catch one! It’s hard enough findin’ gronkle shit nowadays!”

Kai smiled at the man’s enthusiasm, “Yes, I will say that the intel we received from our branch in Greenland was more fruitful than we thought. And once we train the beast we’ll be one step closer to the real prize”

Olaf’s eye widened at Kai’s statement, “Ya really think... after all these years…”

Kai put a hand on Olaf’s shoulder, “I do old friend, it won't be long till the world is reminded of...”

Before Kai could finish his comment a massive explosion came from the west side of the island, pillars of smoke and large swaths of flame encompassing the night sky. Both Kai and Olaf stared incredulously down the beach as gunshots and smaller explosions could be heard. Kai and Olaf looked at one another before taking off in a sprint.

“GENERAL!”

Kai looked to see Terje driving one of Kai’s own personal Jeeps, slamming the breaks just next to him and Olaf and throwing the door open. Without hesitation, Kai and Olaf jumped into the Jeep, Terje hit the accelerator and drove towards the ensuing chaos.

Kai stood up in the Jeep to survey the area the best he could before they arrived, only to see through the ever-growing inferno a black figure shoot up into the sky with a harrowing shriek. Kai followed the creature’s figure until a flash of purple light encompassed the sky, and with the flash’s dissipation came the disappearance of his prize.

Terje pulled up to the aftermath of the chaos, several tents were in flames and the truck that carried the beast was all but destroyed. He spotted several soldiers writhing in pain on the ground while being attended to by medical staff. From the corner of his eye, he could see that parts of their gear and bodies had been burnt off, one soldier was even missing a leg. He and Olaf exited the truck, “Terje, assist the men and make sure those fires don’t spread, the last thing we need is a loose canister of fuel exploding”

“Yessir!”, Terje saluted. He exited the truck and made his way to the other soldiers attempting to douse the flames.

Kai glanced at Olaf, the man’s expression turned from jovial and hopeful to more stern and serious. Kai walked over to the now-destroyed truck, the flatbed was all but split in half and the tractor unit looked as if it was hit by an anti-tank round, sporting a massive hole in the front and back of the unit. With the truck now burning as well, Kai turned his attention to the cage, the bars were blown right off, the roof of the cage was nowhere to be found and all that was left of it was the base, as well as a now slightly torched muzzle.

Kai bent down and picked up the muzzle and inspected it, the belts that held it to the creature’s head had been torn off. Kai stood up and presented the muzzle to Olaf, he took the muzzle from Kai and inspected it.

“Bastard was smarter than we thought…”, Olaf said behind gritted teeth.

“Indeed, it seems our information was...outdated”, Kai said in a neutral tone.

“SIR, SIR!”, Kai turned around to see one of his men running towards him holding a tablet.

“This had better be good, I am not in the best of moods”, Kai said with furrowed brows.

The soldier flinched slightly, “While the creature did escape, one of our men were able to put a tracker on it before it took off”. The soldier presented the tablet to Kai, snatching it from the soldier’s grasp Kai looked at the tablet. A red dot blipped periodically on screen, showing the exact location of the creature, it was heading due southwest towards one of the archipelagos.

Kai glanced at Olaf, the man now wearing a malicious grin with crossed arms across his chest. Kai turned back to the soldier, “Gather a small party and secure a recon boat, I want that creature found and recaptured”.

“Yessir!”, the soldier took back the tablet and ran off.

Kai turned to Olaf, “Looks like we’re going hunting”.


	2. Why are you here?

Erik didn’t dream very often, but when he did he often dreamt of flying. 

Sure he’d been in helicopters and airplanes before but he could never shake off the feeling of being caged. For most of his life, he’s always felt trapped. From the lengthy car rides in elementary school, the cramped bus rides of middle school… high school in general. Even when he turned 18, the magical age where you go from strapping young man to slightly older strapping young man, he still felt trapped.

From literal cages to metaphorical ones he always felt like he was being held down. “Blah blah blah _internships_ blah blah blah _studying_ blah blah blah _GPA_ blah blah blah…”. Whether it was his mother’s infamous lectures, a near-infinite supply of responsibilities, or just growing up in general, he always felt as if the bars of his cage kept getting thicker and thicker with each passing year; and if there was one thing that Erik wanted more than anything, it was to break out of his cage and fly away as far as he could.

That’s why he always loved the thought of flying. Being free of all responsibilities no matter how daunting or important they were. Just him, the clouds, and an endless ocean beneath him. The world around him would be nothing more than an afterthought on the ever-expanding universe that was his imagination. No cages, no lectures, no internships, nothing but the clouds in his face and the sun on his back. He loved these types of dreams, where he was the center of his own universe and no one mattered but him.

However, as he soared above the clouds he couldn’t shake the ever-encroaching feeling of fear that was falling upon him, like the feeling of being followed, or the animalistic instinct that death was upon you. As he looked behind him, a dark shadow stretched over the amber clouds that covered his dream. Bat-like wings stretched across the horizon, darkening the sky above. 

He began to panic, but like most nightmares, he couldn’t move, only feel the ever-growing despair build from his stomach to his face. The blood-red eyes of this nightmare made sure that no matter how hard he tried to look away they would only draw him in further. The shadow opened its maw, every centimeter of its jaw was covered in enormous teeth, and as it drew closer it bellowed a mighty roar….

**BWOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!**

“OHMYGODIMAWA….” _BANG_

The sound that shocked Erik out of his slumber was one that he began to loathe more and more. Especially when said noise roused him from his pleasant dream turned nightmare, causing him to slam his forehead on the metal underside of the top bunk.

Erik rubbed his forehead to help quell the pain of the initial impact as he slowly began to return to his senses from his sleep induced drowsiness. 

As he rotated on his rear end to hang his legs off the shoddily made metal plank that was supposed to be a bed he looked out the starboard window through crusted eyes. The sea looked especially rough today, the foggy horizon continuing to give a feeling of gloom and melancholy that could bring anyone down.

“Last day, last day, last day…”, Erik muttered to himself as he rubbed his face with his open palms. 

4 days… 4 days of wet, smelly, salt-encrusted misery aboard this ship, and the longer he was aboard this god-forsaken vessel the more and more he began to loathe his mother for convincing him to go on this stupid “study abroad” program. Although he can’t blame it entirely on her, because he had been the lucky (or unlucky) student to have been awarded the opportunity out of the 250 students in his major that had signed up for what was essentially a lottery-based study abroad to some island off in the middle of the Norwegian sea. All he hoped for is the end result of his torment would be worth the wait, and that what’d he learn from this experience would be more insightful than unfruitful. 

History and Draconology... what useless majors they turned out to be.

Intense snoring drew Erik’s attention from inner thoughts. Looking over his shoulder he turned to see the bareback of an old man, wiry hair running down the length of his neck to the top of his shoulder blades.

The man that was his temporary roommate was a grisly old sailor by the name of Harris Mcdougal, a stout man with more grey hair than brown and scars that implied he did a bit more than fish for lobsters and cod in his early years. While Erik spent most of the voyage avoiding the old salt (and most of the crew for that matter), he could never find any form of peace and quiet on account of Harris’s incessant snoring. 

It was a miracle to get at least 4 hours of sleep on account of the snoring, clanging and banging of fishing crates, and the constant crashing of sea waves against the ship’s metal hull. It was among the laundry list of complaints that Erik had, and it was one of the less unpleasant ones.

But this ship, and its crew, in particular, had a low tolerance for high maintenance passengers and screw-ups, a fact he learned all too well when he voiced his concern over finding sea lice in Friday’s dinner and when he fell into the control module for one of the fishnet cranes causing a massive spill of fish and chum across the deck of the ship. What proceeded was a near-constant stream of child-like pranks and verbal jousts, such as Sea Lice being placed in his luggage (and other unmentionables). This earned Erik many titles, which included, “College Crybaby”, “Louse Lad”, or one of their favorites, “Hiccup”, on account of how many times would Erik trip, knock something over, or almost push somebody overboard accidentally. 

Today, however, would be the last day he would have to worry about haddock jumping from a loosely secured net and slapping him in the face or having to take another tidal wave to the abdomen. So, for now, he’d just have to make peace with the fact that the journey was almost over.

Erik shambled off the bed frame to get ready for his morning routine on the S.S. Heather. He slumped and shuffled his way to the 34-inch by 24-inch bathroom at the end of the small room that made up his living quarters. 

The room itself was not too bad, except for the occasional leak that sprung whenever there was a rainstorm. The rooms housed around two to four people, thankfully Erik lucked out on having only one roommate. He witnessed multiple fights between the other sailors due to conflicts of space so, in that regard, Erik couldn’t complain.

When entering the room, the bathroom was always immediately to the right. The bunk beds were drilled into the far right corner of the room, there were no railings to help secure you on the bed, and Erik learned early on to hug the wall as much as humanly possible. The left side of the room was mostly used for the usual necessities such as lockers for personal items and clothing and a small bulletin board labeling their charted course and daily activities as well as small radio stationed on the small desk positioned beneath the bulletin board.

A small shiver up and down Erik’s spine as he made his way into the bathroom, although he had gotten used to cold interior of the ship that didn’t make it any less unpleasant being greeted by a cold chill first thing in the morning (that and the only article of clothing on his person being a pair of boxers, an undershirt, and wool socks). 

When Erik entered the bathroom he hesitated to turn the light on, if only to save himself from the horror that was to await him in the mirror. From lack of sleep and lack of motivation to stay clean due to the conditions that awaited him on deck (and that the showers were communal), Erik stopped paying heed to his own personal hygiene unless it involved shaving and brushing his teeth. So, he hesitantly turned the light on, and thankfully he was greeted with a face that, while tired and greasy, was still the same face he wore when he first stepped on the boat.

His eyes had always been an electric blue, although his mom had pointed out that they began to grow darker in color as he got older. His face in recent years became far more chiseled than baby faced, pronouncing an actual jawline and definition. His nose was average looking and acceptable for anyone really, with a straight bridge and no extraordinary features to accompany it. His lips were thin and a light red, something he started to appreciate more and more as he got older after being called fish lips throughout the entirety of middle school. He then turned his attention to his hair, realizing the greasy, misshapen mess that it was in. He ran his fingers through the pitch-black moss that was his hair. Thankfully he got it cut before he was shipped off like a soldier going to war, so it was much shorter than usual, cutting it close at the sides but leaving just enough at the top for him to mess around with when needed.

Pulling back to inspect the rest of him he looked at himself with a small sense of pride. He was always self-conscious when it came to his body (as stupid as it sounds). But, with a little motivation and change of diet, he went from the chubby high school kid to a toned college teen. While he didn’t have a rippling six-pack he was content with the fact that he had cut down on body fat and replaced it with slim muscle, plus pushing just over the 6-foot mark didn’t hurt either. While he wasn’t vain in the regular sense, he did see where his mom was coming from whenever she’d call him “her little lady killer”, no matter how embarrassing it sounded out loud. One thing he was also thankful for was that as he got older his skin went from “ the kid from the Grudge” to an actual human being.

Returning from his thoughts he continued his morning routine, which consisted of brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face and hair to try to rub as much of the grease off of him as he could. Although he could almost guarantee that as soon as he took one step onto the deck he would be greeted by one of 3 things; a crashing wave, a piece of loose equipment, or fish guts (whether they were being carried by a sailor or loose on the deck of the ship was up for speculation).

Erik walked out of the bathroom to see Macdougal undisturbed by the morning horn and the commotion going atop the deck. Erik ignored the snoring sailor and began getting dressed. 

He opened his locker and found that his stuff was still there. Yesterday he had a majority of personal belongings hanging from one of the cargo loaders, and although he didn’t find out exactly who did it but if and when he did they’d be getting a FastPass to the bottom of the ocean.

He perused through his large duffel bag and pulled on his clothes, a simple black t-shirt, jeans, hiking socks, oboz, and a heavy sweatshirt. Before he left he grabbed a heavy raincoat and phone the back of the locker and made his way down the steel cage that was the ship’s interior.

As he passed by a couple of the sailors mingling and talking about the past few days, for some reason Erik could feel nothing but contempt for people like them. 

They live their days in a monotonous cycle, they clock in, go out for a few days, go home and clock out. The same thing over and over again, just like back home. No matter where Erik went in the world all he could see was more cages, every person trapped in an enclosure of redundancies, due dates, and routines.

Finally, he found his way to the stairs that led to the top deck. The door was a water-tight bulkhead that used a valve release system to open the lock. Erik turned the wheel of the door and released the lock, as he inched the heavy steel door open he was greeted by the cold, billowing, biting wind of the winter Norwegian Sea.

With his right hand in front of his face to protect himself from the near-constant sea spray and wind blasting his face, he was able to make out at least 3 other sailors scrambling on deck struggling to keep most of the containers and equipment from going overboard. 

“HICCUP!”

Erik turned to find a man he came to know as Leif Hellem, Third Mate of the S.S Heather. He was a lanky, scruffy-looking man that sprouted a dirty blonde mop with an identically colored beard that ran down to his adam’s apple. His raincoat billowed in the wind, barely staying on by the end of its zipper.

“The captain’s been looking for you! Says he wants to speak with you about something important! He wants you on the bridge!”

Before Erik could respond a massive wave of sea spray crashed into them, causing Erik to stumble and Leif to fall flat on his rear. Wanting to get out of the wind and spray as quickly as possible Erik made a b-line for the captain’s quarters, leaving Leif to sort himself out.

Erik scrambled across the deck of the ship to make his way to the bridge. As he hurried across the deck he could barely catch the commotion that was going on on deck. At that moment his only goal was to make it to the bridge without falling overboard. He maneuvered his way around many of the shipping crates and machinery that covered the top deck, and as he got closer to the steps leading up to the bridge the ship rocked violently from what he assumed was a sea swell, causing him to slip and bang his left shoulder into the railing. 

“Guess I can add that one to the list…”, Erik thought to himself.

Recovering from the initial shock, Erik grabbed the railing in a death-like grip as he slowly but surely made his way to the door of the bridge. Stumbling slightly in front of the door, Erik was able to grab hold of the wheel and turn it with all of his might.

“C’mon… _urk_ ... turn you sonnava… gronkle’s... _ugh_ … nutsack…”

With Erik being distracted by his frustrated and fruitless attempts to open the extremely rusted door, the door flung open. Erik tumbled forward, and with his hands still on the wheel of the door, Erik was tossed inwards and flipped onto his back, slamming the back of his head on the floor.

“‘Lefty loosey righty tighty ring a bell Hiccup? Well, I guess that’s not the only thing that’s ringin’ huh lad?”, a gruff and somewhat gurgly voice chuckled as Erik shook off the initial shock. As Eric looked up he was met the annoyingly familiar face of Captain Thore Ingerman.

He was a cheery Norwegian man well into his 60’s, but his large stature and surprising physical fitness would have you believe otherwise. He was just over 6 foot 4 with a full blonde-gray beard extending down past his chest. As annoying as the man could be Erik always aired on the side of caution with him; it may have been due to the piercing grey-blue eyes that looked as if they could see right through Erik’s soul, or the fact that the man’s biceps were practically the size of Erik’s head. It astounded Erik to no end how a man so old could be so buff, because how infrequently many of the crew members (captain included), rarely ever went back to mainland Norway. So Erik came up with two possibilities, either there was a secret wing of the ship where they built in a state of the art fitness center or he was a genetic freak; and since Erik had walked this ship from stem to stern on the more mellow days, he went with the genetic freak theory.

“My name is Erik…”, he grumbled from the floor.

“Aye, and I’m Frigga, now c’mon lad it’s time you and I had a wee chat”, Thore bent down and grabbed Erik by his right forearm and hoisted him up. Erik grunted lightly from the pulling motion but recovered quickly and rolled his shoulder, hoping that it wouldn’t bruise later. 

Erik looked around the bridge to see it was just as quiet as usual; the bridge was small in comparison to what he had imagined before he went on this study-abroad, with screens showing navigation and the mechanical status with an old school wheel as the helm attached to a more semi-modern steering system. Then again, he didn’t exactly expect to be shipped off in a rusted-out fishing boat.

“Well don’t just stand there like a troll in sunlight lad, come and take a seat”, Thore gestured to a worn-out foldable soccer chair that sat in the far left corner.

“I’m guessing that a fisherman’s salary doesn’t allow for any more comfortable, like a recliner or a club?”, Erik said as he crossed the small room. He plopped down in the soccer chair, feeling the obvious imprint formed from what he guessed was years of abuse from the rear end of Thore Ingerman. 

Thore walked to the helm of the ship and took hold of the wheel, “HAH! You’ll be lucky if you can buy a strip of boar bacon after the season is out! You kids, no matter what part of the world you lot are from all you can do is complain. When I was your age…”

“ _THANKS_ but I’ve heard enough ‘back in my day’ speeches to fill a book…”, Erik said as he waved his hands in front of him.

Thore’s mouth curved into a small smile at the boy’s wild gestures, “I’m guessin’ ya father had a hand in that?”

“My mom actually, my dad’s…. Anyway, Leif said you wanted to talk?”, Erik asked.

Thore gave him an inquisitive look before shrugging it off. Erik noticed that Thore was deep in thought as if he was choosing his next words very carefully, “How caught up are you on your history boyo?”.

Erik looked at the old man curiously, “Like… general history? Cause if this is a pop quiz I’m telling you right now I’m not passing”

The old man gave a hearty laugh, “HAH! This ain’t a lecture hall, no need to get yer knackers in a twist. Let’s see… hmmmmm…. What do ya know about Vikings? Let’s start with that”.

Erik scratched his chin with his index finger and thought about the old man’s question. Odd that he would ask such a broad question like that. “I guess… to give the flame-notes version, they were the first people in recorded history to ever come into contact with dragons by around the early 700’s. Due to the vast number of dragons that inhabited the region many tribes were forced out due to the vast amount of resources needed to survive harsh winters and constant dragon attacks”. Erik crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair to look up at the ceiling, “Most of the Viking tribes from Greenland, the archipelagos, and Sval… Svalberg… Svel…”

“Svalbard”, Thore interjected.

“Thanks. Most Viking tribes ended up retreating to mainland Europe and were either segmented into smaller less noticeable tribes or were absorbed into the Holy Roman Empire or Danish Kingdom. However, there were a handful of smaller tribes that stayed in the Northern territories and survived through trading with nearby islands. Even with the constant supply of trading networks it was still incredible that they were able to survive for so long with fire-breathing death machines constantly burning their islands to the ground”.

“Ya know yer stuff lad! And what were ya taught about these ‘fire-breathin’ death machines’ in yer fancy American universities?”, Erik looked back at the old man and continued to wonder what the point of this conversation was. 

Throughout the trip, the man barely spoke a word to Erik other than to give him more chores, if the man wasn’t in the bridge doing who knows what he was either walking around the ship doing every job that was listed on the bulletin board. 

“Well, depending upon where you were in the world dragons were wither seen as gods or pests. I guess for most of Europe they were seen as oversized rats, so many dragon species found in mainland Europe were either hunted to extinction or retreated to the Northern territories. Since so many dragons lived in the archipelagos of the Norwegen sea not many people stayed there for long, most people who went through the northern territories were either traders, Vikings too stubborn to leave, or dragon hunters. So around the early 1000’s to combat the dragon’s, there was almost an instantaneous leap in technology, stuff that would have been considered impossible to build anywhere else in the world”, Erik uncrossed his arms and leaned forward with his forearms on his knees, “Some of the stuff they found on off the coast of Greenland wasn’t even thought of until the late 1600s. But after all the dragons disappeared technology just… stopped''.

“Did yer teachers ever say why they disappeared?”, Thore asked with a blank expression.

“Eh, a bunch of theories but no actual evidence as to why... some say plagues, others say the Holy Roman Empire, one of my professors talked about some guy named Harold...or was it Harry?… whatever. I feel like after a thousand years someone would’ve found something by now. I mean c’mon, how could entire species of creatures that could grow larger than a city block just vanish into thin air?”.

“True, but stranger things have happened lad. Things have been known to disappear in these waters.”, Thore shrugged.

Erik took Thore’s warning into consideration. Before Erik was flown off to Oslo he was forced to watch a two-hour slide-show presentation describing the possible dangers someone could encounter on this excursion. Wild boars, hypothermia, large cliffs, and some terrorist group called The Hunters. He didn’t exactly pay attention when it came to current events, his mom instilled in him at a very young that “if it doesn’t involve you... don’t bother”. 

“You seem really into all this Vikings and Dragons stuff old man, no offense but I don’t know if they’d be accepting application from guys your age”, Erik said jokingly.

“Heh, you’re right about that lad, don’t think I’d fit their image, and besides, Vikings and dragons are my blood!”, Thore announced whilst pounding his fist on his chest, “Why my ancestor Fishlegs Ingerman was one of the smartest Vikings in history, half the stuff you kids know about dragons came from him!”

“If the guy was so famous how come I’ve never heard of him?”, Eric asked.

“Some British bastard found my ancestor’s research and claimed it as his own. Damn British, always taking what isn’t theirs and saying that they came up with it, BAH, half the shite they came up with was thought of a thousand years ago! By whom ya ask? VIKINGS that’s who!”, Thore yelled shaking a fist at the sky.

Erik snickered at the old man’s rant, “Guess you hold a bit of a grudge huh?”

Thore looked over at Erik with a frustrated expression, “DAMN RIGHT! Every bit-a technological know-how that those tea-sippin’, bad-mouthed, crooked toothed pieces of Nadder shite ‘invented’ was made by us a thousand years ago! I swear thinkin’ about just makes my…”, Thore stopped midway through his rant with an open mouth and surprised expression. Eventually, his face morphed from intense frustration to slight embarrassment, “Sorry ‘bout that boyo, didn’t mean to relay some old family grudges on ya...” Thore apologized while rubbing his nape.

Erik waved his hand dismissively, “No big deal, but what’s with that anyway? Never seen someone get so worked up over ancient history”.

Thore sighed, “Let’s just say that we have a hard time lettin’ things go, grudges most of all…”. Erik saw a strange look come over Thore’s face, it seemed distant, longing, as if he was searching for something,

“Well, I guess I can add that little nugget of information to my essay huh? Is it like that for every northerner or just you?”

Thore snapped himself out of his trance and a proud smile came across his face as he stood up, “Well lad, you’re about to find out”

Erik was about to respond to Thore when Thore reached up over his head and pulled a long string.

**BWOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!**

Erik launched himself out of the half-torn soccer chair in surprise, he opened his mouth to create some form of outburst but was silenced when something on the horizon caught his eye. Or more accurately, had his eyebrows shoot up his forehead and his eye blown as wide as dinner plates

Thore broke into a smile that nearly split his face in half, “THIS… IS BERK!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going forward I just want to let you guys know that there will be many chapters with descriptive narrative in them. The reason for this is that while many of the areas that we will be visiting in the story will be places from the movies, one thing to take into account is the fact that the story takes place 1000 years into the future. So please do tell me if you guys think I should limit the descriptive narrative a bit and focus more on dialogue. One more thing, the next couple of chapters are going to be moving a little slow because I want to introduce the main cast in a respectful and interesting light. Once again, criticism is very appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction. For the longest time, I was always apprehensive when it came to writing these kinds of things. Fanfictions are often very taboo in today's world, whenever someone mentions fanfiction the first thing that pops into many people's heads is the image of a smutty, sex-ridden, shoddily made piece of writing. While I will admit there are plenty of those, fanfictions can be an outlet for many people, not just to try to tell stories through their favorite medium, but also to improve upon their own writing; if their fanfiction is responded to in a positive light, it can build their confidence and hopefully allow them to create their own stories. For me, my hope is that through writing these stories I can improve along the way and hopefully continue writing them. I have tons of ideas not just for this story but for other projects as well, so please, critique to your to hearts desire when reading this, every bit of criticism helps. I am a huge fan of the HTTYD series and grew up with them ever since I was 10 years old. The ending of the movie left a lot to be desired and I wanted to try my hand at creating a mature, intricate, and modern tale that connects to the cannon. I hope you guys enjoy. I will try my best to update them as frequently as possible (most realistic time frame is 1 to 2 chapters a month) and try to complete this story.


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